


Worth It

by rustingroses



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddle Puddles, Friends as Family, Gen, Multi, Pillow & Blanket Forts, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustingroses/pseuds/rustingroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk loves his Enterprise family, so when one of them gets some bad news, a cuddle puddle is the only reasonable solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laughing_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laughing_Phoenix/gifts).



“Bones! I’m going to need some of the pillows from medical, please and thank you!” Jim called out as he started rooting around in the supply closet. Bones stared down at his tablet for a few minutes while Jim frantically gathered pillows, and Jim could practically hear him debating whether or not to question this latest insanity. Jim picked up the pace, hoping to be out the door before Bones could make a decision they’d both regret.

He’d almost made it to the doors of medical bay, arms loaded up with pillows when he heard Bones say warningly, “Jim!”

Jim froze. “What?”

“Am I going to get those pillows back in a form that will make them usable for future patients?”

Jim considered that for a moment. “Yes!”

“And by usable for future patients, I don’t just mean still in their original shape. I mean they haven’t been used for a purpose that would make me drink every drop of liquor on this damn ship.” Bones sounded annoyed, but not actively angry.

“Yes!” Jim shouted back. “I promise! Pinky promise, even! They’ll be back in medical bay first thing in the morning!” Well, maybe not _first_ thing in the morning but definitely before Jim had to go off to alpha shift. Still, so long as Bones got them back before noon, he probably wouldn’t actually die of an aneurism, so Jim considered that a win. Although he might if he showed up tonight and decided that Jim’s appropriated medical equipment was not, in fact, being put to good use.

Carrying the half-dozen pillows precariously in his arms, Jim walked quickly down the corridors, doing the best he could to evade any and all crew members that might ask unfortunate questions. Humming a little under his break as he made his way to the rec room, he surveyed his domain. Technically, the whole ship was Jim’s domain, but the rec room was currently really actually his domain, because in the rest of his so-called domain, Jim too often had to endure very polite, very intense stare from a pair of dark eyes that said, without a spoken word, that Jim needed to stop driving him crazy or there would be a whole new ring of bruises around his neck. Three guesses as to who felt that way, and the first two didn’t count. Not that anyone else was any better, of course, although Scotty had grudgingly allowed Jim access to the warp core now that he’d very heroically died from the radiation after successfully fixing the damn thing in the first place.

Sure, it had taken more brute force than any actual skill, but _still_.

Jim continued to arrange chairs and blankets and pillows, precisely calculating the angle from his construction to the screen on one wall, before nodding once. Scotty would bring the booze, Sulu would raid the kitchen, and Pavel would just have to show up. Maybe if Bones decided to investigate, he could be convinced to bring some booze as well. Jim considered that thought for a moment, and figured that since Bones would probably try and see what Jim was doing anyways, thanks to the pillows, they may as well get something out of it. Jim texted him then, the door to the rec room sliding open behind him.

Spock entered, gazing around him, and though he didn’t precisely show that he was perplexed, he sort of got this air around Jim sometimes, an air of ‘I’m not sure if asking will make things better or worse’. Jim was pretty sure that he’d learned it from Bones, but it was entirely possible he’d learned it from Nyota. If Spock had learned it from Nyota, Jim couldn’t really blame him, because Jim had found that he and Nyota had fallen into the habit of exchanging looks when Spock’s… Spockness… had reached new levels of Spocking.

“You’re Spocking at me again,” Jim said aloud, just for the opportunity to use Spock’s name as a verb.

Predictably, Spock pointed out, “When last I checked, Jim,” and didn’t that just give Jim a little flare of victory, because he’d fucking earned that Jim, thanks very much, “my name does not constitute an action or state of being, and thus cannot be used as a verb.”

“That!” Jim proclaimed, pointed a finger at Spock. “That is some prime Spocking right there!”

“Captain,” Spock said severely, and Jim made a face. First-name privileges were evidently temporarily revoked. Well, Jim knew how to do this thing with his tongue that would earn them back sooner before later. “What are you doing?” He went back to looking around himself, eyebrow raised and speaking entire novels.

Jim really needed to figure out how to do that.

“I’m building a fort,” he said instead, because that was true, and also because it would confound Spock.

They both stared together at the pile of blankets and pillows, the former artfully stretched out over some chairs, the latter beneath as a means of relaxation. Spock let out a tiny sound that was possibly a sigh. “Captain, this is not a fortified building or strategic position,” he pointed out patiently. “In fact, there is nothing defensive about this structure at all.” He dubiously eyed one of the blankets which was just barely held in place, knotted around the back of a chair, and the way Jim had wedged the edge of another blanket between two couch cushions.

“What?” Jim asked defensively. “You’ve never built a - ” he heard what he was saying and cut himself off. “What am I asking, of course you’ve never built a fort when you were a kid, at least nothing like this, that would require the appropriation of bedding for means other than that for which it was intended.” He put his hands on his hips. “Okay. Look. Pavel got some shitty news today, alright? So as his friends, it’s our job to reassure him on a personal level during off duty time, right?”

Having been well trained by Jim and Nyota, Spock raised no demur to those statements, even if he didn't actively agree to the whole 'friends' thing. “Well, he told me a while back about how he used to make forts with his siblings and they’d all hang out and watch movies together when one of them had a bad day, so I figured we could do that now, too, given how shitty his day has been. Hikaru’s queued up all his favorites, and he’s bringing snack food, and Scotty’s bringing the booze, and Bones might show up, and I set up the fort, so hopefully it’ll cheer him up! Or at least, hopefully Scotty can get him drunk enough that it won’t matter either way.”

There was a long moment of silence, the kind of strange, wanting silence that Jim had grown accustomed to interpreting. “You know, although he doesn’t say it explicitly, he considers you a friend too,” Jim said delicately. “I know how Vulcans feel about intimate contact, so you don’t have to necessarily join the cuddle puddle, but you’re more than welcome to join in. I think it’d be good for Pavel to know that you’re supporting him too.”

Spock looked torn, and the fact that he looked torn at all made Jim want to either laugh or cry. “As Chekov’s commanding officer - ”

“But you’re _not_ his commanding officer, not tonight,” Jim pointed out. “Tonight you’re a friend, remember? You’re off-duty. That means that it’s totally fine if you want to hang out with us. If your cultural mores say ‘maybe I shouldn’t spend my evening doing a full-body hug with anyone but my super awesome gorgeous Captain and my ridiculously hot and fierce Communications Officer’ then that’s chill. But if you want to just hang out in the general area of this fort and possibly watch movies, you’re welcome, and hey, I’ll get you a chocolate shake if you want to indulge. But only say no if you really aren’t interested in being around.”

“I should bring something for others to partake of,” Spock said, with just the barest almost-curve of his lips, and with a sudden surge of warmth in his eyes.

Jim grinned at him. “We’ve got the booze covered, but we can always use more junk food. Get some chips and salsa from the kitchens, pretzels, that sort of thing, okay? Talk to Hikaru, figure out what the two of you should bring. Meet me back here in half an hour.” He shooed Spock back out, and returned to putting the finishing touches on his fort, making sure it was big enough in case Bones decided to join after all, or in case Spock decided he was willing to risk some public full-body hugging with Jim so long as he didn’t have to touch anyone else.

Sure, that second one was unlikely, but a man had to dream.

Shaking his head, Jim returned to reality, getting the first movie set just as Scotty came in, waving several bottles of booze. “I’ve brought a new test batch!” he declared, and then paused. “That is,” he corrected, “I’ve brought a new test batch of my, er, friend’s alcohol which in no way, shape, or form was created using Starfleet resources and is in no way the product of a still which might be frowned upon by the Admiralty when placed aboard a starship.” Jim gave him a thumbs up, and Scotty beamed. “Come now, laddy, you’ve got to try this and tell me what you think!” he continued enthusiastically, abandoning any sort of decorum in order to pour Jim a drink.

“Starting without us?” Hikaru demanded as Scotty started to pour. He had several bowls with lids stacked atop one another in his arms, and Spock at his side carried several more. “How rude!” He put the bowls on the floor, uncovering them and started to snack from the one with caramel corn in it.

Jim took a sip of Scotty’s latest concoction, and wheezed a little. “If it has any flavor, I can’t tell,” he admitted. “It’s a bit strong for something as pedestrian as a flavor profile to be in evidence.” He took another sip, though, the strong smell of ethanol burning his nose. “And honestly, I think it’s a close cousin of rotgut.”

Scotty beamed at him, like this was something to be proud of, and Bones announced, “You idiots!” while pushing past Hikaru and Spock to put his own offerings on display. Although Bones was a bourbon man at heart, he carried three six-packs of the Red Brick Hoplanta IPA that his family had been drinking for generations, likely because he didn’t trust them all not to respect his bourbon sufficiently. “Unless you all want to end up medical before the night is out, getting your stomachs pumped - and yes, I would bring back that archaic technique _just for you all_ \- I’d recommend drinking in moderation, and staying far away from Scotty’s moonshine.”

Jim saluted Bones, declaring, “Yes sir, Surgeon General, sir!” with just the right amount of sass to make Bones eye him with annoyance. “I promise to drink your weird IPAs in moderation, sir!” Jim was much more of a stout or guinness fan, but didn’t dislike IPAs - however, he did enjoy driving Bones crazy, so he snapped off another salute, Bones already grabbing for him while Scotty laughed and raised his glass, Hikaru protesting and trying to protect the food while Spock eyed them all with trepidation, and possibly like he was just now realizing that he was trapped on a vessel where the entire command team belonged in a room with padded walls.

So, naturally, that was when Pavel showed up.

The chaos slowly ground to a momentarily halt, and Jim just grinned at Pavel, who was staring at the fort and the food and the alcohol with growing understanding - and, more importantly, a growing happiness. Casually kicking off his shoes, Pavel headed right for the fort and settled in the center, stretching out with his back propped against some of the pillows. Already some of the tightness around his eyes, his mouth, had eased, and if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay, that was _more_ than okay, because they’d show him he wasn’t alone. “Well?” he asked, Russian accent thicker than usual. He patted the ground next to him. “Come on! And stop hogging all the caramel corn!” he chided Hikaru.

Just like that, they all relaxed, crowding into the fort and complaining about various people’s knees and elbows and about being squashed in a totally non-fun way. Well, except for Spock, who rather sensibly sat just outside the fort, watching as Bones shoved Jim to the left a little more to make room for himself, and as Scotty spilled some of his moonshine on Hikaru, making the whole fort smell like booze. Still, they got settled soon enough, in a hapless tangle of limbs and laughter and warmth that left Jim feeling so fucking _grateful_ for these people, this ship. He reached out, fingers questing for, and finding, Spock’s own; a tiny, intimate touch.

“Sorry, I forgot to get you your chocolate milkshake,” Jim murmured beneath the companionable talking from everyone else as Hikaru and Pavel argued about the best order for their movie marathon. Jim listened to the conversation absently, smiling when Pavel began to try and use science to support his reasoning, hands gesturing grandly. Yeah, he’d be just fine, Jim would make sure of it.

Spock shook his head. “I don’t mind,” he said quietly. Then, with that soft undercurrent of humor that Jim adored, he added, “I suspect that someone ought to remain sober, especially given the strength of Mr. Scott’s alcohol. It’s for the best.”

Jim smiled at him, squeezing Spock’s fingers for just a moment, and then turning back to everyone else as Pavel won the argument and queued up the first film, pressed against Hikaru and laughingly debating whether Scotty’s still could make halfway decent beer, or if all it was fit for was moonshine. This, naturally, led to various taste tests of Bones’ IPA and the hard liquor Scotty had provided, Jim chiming in to point out that they really ought to first figure out whether they could even manage to get their hands on hops from the replicator, and whether it would be of high enough quality to actually get any flavor. Hikaru argued the truly smart thing would be to get some seeds when they were back on Earth, and to give him some room in the botany labs to try and grow the hops himself.

As the first movie led into the second, the beer was gone, and they’d made substantial inroads into both the remaining booze and food, flushed as much from the drink as the company. Jim couldn’t help be proud of the people he’d become friends with - not a single one of them stood by while Pavel let the grief overtake him for more than a moment or two. Not tonight. There would be other times for mourning, but now they were all together, laughing and teasing and drinking and watching movies until far too late.

 _Worth it_ , Jim thought drowsily, Bones already sprawled and snoring while Pavel and Scotty scribbled notes about the Enterprise’s warp core on Hikaru’s arm. Even Spock had relented enough to tuck his toes underneath Jim’s thigh, eyes soft. _Yeah, definitely worth it_.

~*~

 _So not worth it_ , Jim wanted to groan, but the thought of opening his eyes, or even having to hear the sound of anyone’s voice - or worse yet, having to sit up - made him swallow back nausea. He could hear Bones’ distinctive, snuffling snores somewhere near his head. Right. The fort. Pavel. God have mercy, he should have never let Scotty pour him that last drink. He considered cracking open an eye, and then decided against it.

There was a soft whirr as the door opened. “I should have known, when neither of you came back to our quarters last night,” Nyota said in an amused voice. “How’d they drag you into this?”

“There was no dragging involved,” Spock assured in a barely audible voice. “Jim pointed out that as members of Pavel’s support system, it was only logical that we endeavor to, ah, ‘cheer Pavel up’.” Jim felt a warm burst of pleasure at hearing Spock refer to Pavel by his first name. He’d even mentioned an emotion. They were two for two this morning, it seemed. “There was food and alcoholic beverages, and Pavel’s favorite films, which was intended to have a beneficial effect on Pavel’s wellbeing.”

“And a fort,” Nyota pointed out. “You are all in a fort.”

“It is neither defensible nor in a strategic locale, but evidently neither is a prerequisite for these circumstances.” Spock still sounded dubious about this being true, but hey, he’d showed up, so Jim was still counting it as a win.

Jim knew Nyota had to be hiding a smile, because Jim was hiding a smile, because Spock was Spocking again and fuck, he had to tell Nyota about using Spock’s name as a verb, they’d drive him crazy in all the best possible ways. Well, it was about time, considering the sanity of the rest of the ship. He grinned a little, still breathing deep and even.

Nyota stayed silent for a long moment, considering. “I’ll exchange three favors of any magnitude, including sexual exploits, if you help me get pictures of them like this and post them for the entire ship to see.”

Jim held his breath.

“A fascinating proposal. Shall we use the replicator in a manner not intended, and create a number of stuffed creatures traditionally intended for small children for the purposes of this photo?”

“I knew you were the most logical member of this ship for a reason,” Nyota declared, sounding pleased. “We should certainly use the replicator in that fashion. Oh, and Jim?”

Jim froze, and cracked open a single eye. Nyota was smiling sweetly at him. “Yes?”

“If you even _think_ about waking everyone up and moving them before the picture is complete, I’m going to make sure that you regret it every day for the next year.” Nyota blew him a kiss, and headed out of the rec room, Spock rising and following her out.

Jim lifted his head a little, and saw that Pavel had an eye cracked open, too. “You can escape,” Jim offered. “I’ll just say I pretended to be asleep so I could keep everyone else here.”

Pavel just grinned. “It’s worth it, for last night,” he murmured. “Thank you. You are…” He shook his head a little. “You are awesome.”

Jim grinned back, and laughed. Yeah, okay, totally fucking _worth it_.

**Author's Note:**

> Because even on the worst days, cuddle puddles make things better <3 you'll get through this!


End file.
